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Oblivion

Chapter 2: Fainting Spells

Summary:

In which Kagome finally realizes the reality of her rash decision-making, and a few new acquaintances seem to be just FULL of questions...

Notes:

NOTE: THIS FIC IS CROSS-POSTED TO FFNET AND IS AT 33 CHAPTERS AND COUNTING. I am trying to get it uploaded on here as much as I can, but if you're eager to know what happens you can find it there. Same username, meggz0rz (with a zero, NOT a capital 'o'). THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE GUYS

Chapter Text

Oblivion

Chapter  Two

FAINTING SPELLS


I am the most impulsive, most foolish…

Kagome shivered and pulled her fur cloak closer around her shoulders. There were tears slowly freezing on her cheeks, pulled almost forcefully from her eyes by the stinging wind and the speed of her horse's gallop. She was fairly sure her nose was running too, but kept tightly ahold of the reins and just spurred the horse forward through the snowfall.

She'd stopped once she'd lost sight of the house and dressed in the frosty dark, pulling on one of her brother's hakamas and slipping her grandfather's armor over her arms. It was heavy, and cumbersome, and she was almost certain she wasn't doing it right.

It was perfect. She looked just like any other frightened young boy, taking the armor of someone older and more capable and trying to become a man overnight in the face of horrific circumstances. With her hair tied into a low braid, with her face covered in dirt and mud and her figure hidden by tight bindings and bulky garments, surely no one would be the wiser.

And if they were…

Well, that's why I brought my arrows.

She once again wanted to laugh at herself, to scream in laughter and burst into tears and let her mind just break. What the hell am I doing, she wondered for the thousandth time.

There was a mild clopping of hoofbeats just ahead. In the darkness, by the slivers of moonlight through the trees, Kagome could just spot a man wearing a hooded cloak. He was riding the smallest, oldest nag she had ever seen. The poor horse looked inches from death, and was simply stumbling along in the snow, seemingly unsure of where it was headed.

The hooded man turned to watch Kagome approach. He looked to be about ten years older than she was, wearing monk's robes. He gave her a friendly smile and held up his hand in greeting as if he had not a care in the world.

"Evening," the monk said, "Another lamb to the slaughter, like me?"

Kagome frowned and said nothing, avoiding eye contact.

"Apologies," the monk said, pushing back his hood to look her square in the face. He still had that easygoing smile on his face, and the bluest eyes Kagome thought she'd ever seen. "I tend to make light in hard situations. Not everyone appreciates it."

"Your...horse…" Kagome said, lowering her voice just a little, but not enough where it sounded forced. She gave him a very inquisitive look.

The blue-eyed monk turned to gently pat the animal's neck. "Poor old fellow," he said, "This will likely be his last ride. He's carried members of my order for over two decades. Once he gets me to the camp, I'm letting him retire for good. He can spend his last days eating all the vegetables I can spare."

"I didn't think monks did much fighting," Kagome said.

"They don't," the young man laughed, placing his hood back over his head, "They send the new initiates to do it instead. I joined the order just a month ago, so I'm the one to join the regiments. Fate does love its trickery, doesn't it?"

Kagome just sighed and nodded, feeling the nerves and fear roil up in her guts again.

"What about you? You can't be more than fourteen or fifteen."

She was acutely aware that he was looking her up and down, and she hunched her shoulders a bit almost as a reflex.

"No older brothers to represent the family, huh?"

"N-no," she said, resolving to volunteer as little as possible.

The monk seemed to get the hint, but it didn't affect his calm smile. "Well, kid," he said after a moment's silence, "Not to worry. I'm a fair hand in a fight; don't let the religious trappings fool you. I'll keep an eye out for you if you need it."

Kagome gave him a small, uneasy smile. "Thanks," she said hesitantly.

"Miroku," he supplied, "What's your name?"

Oh, dear. She scrambled for a moment, kicking herself for not having thought of anything earlier. Not that I've been doing much thinking lately.

"S-Sota," she stammered. Familiar enough where she'd look up, at least, if it were called out. But now that she'd said it she was picturing her younger brother's smiling face and she felt like crying. Would she ever even see him again?

"Pleasure to meet you, Sota," Miroku said. This was the most congenial man she'd ever met, honestly. He could even give Hojo a run for his money; Hojo who in all the years she'd known him hadn't looked unhappy or afraid once…

At least, until earlier tonight.

She was shaken out of her miserable hole of uncertain emotions when Miroku pointed ahead and gently patted his old nag to continue straight onward.

"I see the camp lights," he said, his breath a foglike cloud, "Maybe we'll actually get a decent night's sleep before they start trying to whip us all into shape."

He had that smile still pasted on his face, but the tone of his voice was more sarcastic than optimistic.

Kagome just nodded, that familiar dizzy feeling of apprehension returning.


"New recruits, this way! Relinquish your horses inside the gates immediately!"

Miroku and Kagome dismounted and did as they were told, tying their animals off on some haphazard-looking posts and following the trickle of young men wandering toward the large campfire.

There were several officers standing around, easily spotted by their much nicer armor and their general dismissive looks toward the volunteers, who all appeared to be as out of sorts as Kagome was.

Kagome just did her best to keep her head down and fall in line, sliding into the crowd and following Miroku as he tried to shove his way a little closer to one of the campfires.

"Anything to eat?" he asked one of the officers, "We've been riding for the entire night."

The officer in question just scoffed and turned to walk away.

"Well then," Miroku said, taking a seat upon the snowy ground and holding out his hands to warm them by the firelight, "A little hunger is good for the morals, I suppose."

Kagome swallowed. Her throat was so dry. Would eating snow help? No, probably not.

The fire was so hot, though. It was making her feel a little delirious.

"File in!" There was a shout from one of the other ranked men, and the crowd of recruits began to move a little faster as they shoved into a group around the fire, "Commanding officer present!"

A man wearing the ornate costume of a general stepped forward and began addressing the troops.

Kagome was barely listening to his ramblings about honor, about defeating the youkai menace, about cleansing the land of their filth and restoring order, about loyalty to the shogun. She was feeling extremely lightheaded.

A nudge at her right elbow, and she looked up through half-lidded eyes. Miroku was staring at her with clear concern. "You all right, kid? You look a little…"

His voice faded out. She felt herself slump forward as the snow before her turned grey, then black…


"Sota! Hey, Sota! Do we have a doctor present? A medic? Anything?"

General Naito's droning speech was abruptly halted due to the sudden disruption in the crowd.

A small, skinny boy, wearing armor far too big and shivering with cold, had just passed out, and would surely have faceplanted in the snow if not for the monk next to him having decent reflexes.

Naito looked a little miffed at being interrupted, and immediately turned behind him.

"Okada," he said, "Take care of this, would you?"

Okada just scoffed, but nodded. He stepped forward to shove through the crowd of the enlisted men and reached the boy, who was propped up in the monk's arms and breathing very weakly.

"Something's wrong," the monk said, "I think he has a fever."

Okada rolled his eyes. "That's fairly obvious. Give him to me and be quiet. The general's not finished speaking."

The monk didn't look very sure, but finally he held out his arms and Okada was able to quite easily sling the boy's prone body over one shoulder and push back through the murmuring crowd toward the medical tent.

The boy moaned a little and started to slide down Okada's leather armor. With a hiss of frustration, Okada roughly readjusted his grip, tucking his arms beneath the kid's legs and shoulders, eager to just dump the little brat off on the healer and be done with it.

"H-Hojo?" The boy's eyes opened slightly, gazing up at him. They were almost sapphire blue in color, and thickly rimmed with long black lashes.

Hojo...Okada recognized the name. One of the higher-ranked families in the area. A young man primed and ready to succeed his father as daimyo when the time came.

And frankly, Okada knew, that time would probably be sooner rather than later. This kid knows Hojo. Strangely well-connected for a scrawny brat in secondhand armor.

The boy in his arms looked up at him, curious and obviously confused. "No," the kid murmured softly, his voice still youthful and high, "You're...not him."

"Well spotted," Okada snapped.

"Where...are we?"

"You passed out," Okada said shortly, "Clearly you're going to be a great asset to the shogun's troops. Can't even last a day's ride."

The boy then looked very ashamed, and clenched his jaw. "Let me go," he said, wriggling free, "I can walk by myself."

"Fine," Okada said, unceremoniously dropping him to the snowy earth.

The boy glared up at him with such fire that it almost surprised him, and struggled to stand on trembling limbs.


Kagome's arms and legs felt shaky and strengthless, but she forced herself, through what could only be sheer blatant defiance, to get to her feet and remain as motionless as possible.

The man in officer's uniform standing in front of her was at least a foot taller than she was, and he was standing there in the darkness, framed only by the dim light of the moon and the distant glow of the campfires down the pathway, with his arms folded in obvious scorn.

"Medical tent's that way," he said, and she caught the glint of a sneer on his face, "Let's see you walk yourself, and maybe I won't order a notice sent to all the villages asking if anyone's lost a child."

Kagome, as out of it as she was, felt a stab of anger. "I am no child," she said, almost forgetting to lower her voice due to the indignity she was experiencing, "I'm...I'm…"

Wait. Maybe I shouldn't claim my true age. I'm already short for a female my age, and to claim to be a boy of seventeen would probably seem outrageous. Better to play it safe.

The officer chuckled, and it sounded harsh and cruel. "Come on, kid," he said, "Think a little faster on your feet. If you're going to lie, you need to be better at it."

Kagome felt fear seize around her heart as she thought about just to what extent she was lying right now, and how if this man in front of her knew it, he probably wouldn't hesitate to order her exposed to everyone in the camp.

Or to order her killed on the spot.

She fell silent and turned away to trudge through the snow toward the tent the man had indicated.

The first step was fine.

The second was wobbly.

And on the third, she tumbled forward, landing roughly on her hands and knees, feeling the sting on her palms as she took a shaky breath in and out.

She heard footsteps approaching, and she was roughly yanked by the collar back to her feet. The bindings on her chest squeezed tighter, and she wanted to scream in pain but bit her tongue instead.

He was bodily lifting her off the ground with a single hand. The strength this man had in a single fist was incredible. Kagome could do nothing but let out a whimper, preparing for a slap or a punch or worse.

Nothing came. She felt them start to move, and she blinked her eyes open, staring at the man who had her completely helpless.

"Determined little brat, aren't you?" He seemed almost amused as he continued walking, still holding her up inches off the snow as if he were simply carrying a load of unwashed laundry.


Why these fools insisted on sending mere children to do their dirty work, Okada knew he would never understand, but he'd always just shrugged it off.

Most of the boys who came to the camp to be trained were clearly scared stiff of everything that moved. They were all looking for some excuse to fail out of training and get sent back home to their mothers.

And then there was this one. Sick, delirious with fever, barely able to stand, and still trying to fight to stay. And if he knew Hojo, he was from nobility, no less. Very surprising. The kids from fancy families were usually the ones with the most excuses and pleadings for mercy.

The lamp glowing in the tent ahead began to cast further light on the kid's face as they approached.

Yes, definitely from nobility. There was no mistaking those delicate little features, that aristocratic face shape. The boy was as pretty as any girl.

And he was blushing. Okada wanted to mutter in disgust and let the kid drop, but instead he just flung open the tent flap, deposited the boy on a cot and muttered a few words of instruction to the healer.


As she was roughly shoved into a horizontal position on the threadbare cot, and just before a foul-tasting tonic was shoved at her, Kagome watched the young man in the armor of an officer disappear again out of the tent without another word.

"It's just a cold brought on by exhaustion. Let's get you out of those wet clothes," the healer, a balding man in his late forties, barked gruffly, and reached out to start yanking armor off of Kagome's body.

"NO!" Kagome sat up with a start, almost choking on the last of the disgusting medicine, "I'll be fine, it's nothing!"

The determination to not be unceremoniously groped and then murdered won out over how ill she was feeling, and the medic spluttered in surprise and protest as she flew out of the tent, tripping over her own feet once and catching herself as she sprinted back toward the camp.

She passed by the officer who'd helped her, who heard her approaching and turned with a look of absolute bewilderment on his face.

"What the hell?" he barked, "Get back in that tent!"

"Feeling much better now," she said quickly, trying to shove past him and instead colliding face-first into his shoulder, making him grunt, "Just a fainting spell. Family trait."

That's the best you can think of? Well done, Kagome. She wanted to scream in frustration at herself.

"Oi." The taller man's voice was now properly irritated, and she felt herself wince a little as she looked up at him. His face was more visible now; he was probably only a few years older than she was, with black hair that even outdid her own in terms of length, and dark violet eyes that were narrowed dangerously. A very, very handsome face, she would have thought if her mind weren't currently occupied with trying to avoid getting punched in the face.

His hand clenched around the top of her breastplate and pulled her upward, his face mere inches from hers.

She did her best to look very sure of herself as she looked him straight in the eyes, clenching her jaw and keeping her mouth in a straight line.

"I personally don't give a damn if you live or die, but if you pass out again tomorrow in basic training," he said, and a humorless smirk began to cross his features, one that was rather terrifying to behold, "I will personally beat the ever-living hell out of you. In front of every last man here. Understood, soldier? There's no credit given here for a kid who tries as hard as possible to get himself killed, and I've been itching to make an example of someone."

"I drank the medicine. I'll be fine. I promise," she said, unflinchingly. "Sir."

His lip curled, and he released his hold and stepped out of her way, allowing her to pass him and return to the main camp, where she found Miroku looking very, very surprised at her sudden and incredible recovery.

"How on heaven or on earth - " he began, and she just sat back down next to him, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before she forced them back open and gave him a friendly smile.

"Fainting spell," she said again, still feeling like a fool for that excuse, "Family trait."

And then her attention turned to the general, who was now seemingly discussing what would be expected of them when training began early the next morning.

Behind the general, she saw the tall, dark-haired officer slide back into line, arms folded. He was staring straight at her. And he looked suspicious as all hell.

Kagome averted her eyes.